Saturday, January 16, 2016

Do You Find Blue Collar Heroes Sexy?

Do you like your heroes to have rough hands and dirt under their fingernails? If so, you'd love Jackson.


Aimee Crest is the prissiest, most stuck-up Wolf Jackson Cooper has ever met. The woman has a temper that would send sailors running and enough emotional baggage to keep a shrink in business for a lifetime. A Wolf would do well to steer clear of her. And Jackson would be happy to do just that—if it weren’t for one little thing that makes her irresistible to him. She’s his mate.

It’s a fate Aimee didn’t ask for and one she’s not at all happy about. She doesn’t want a mate. More to the point, she refuses to accept one. Even if that mate happens to be tall, muscular, and damn good with his hands. He won’t be able to seduce his way into her heart. She won’t let him.

But in this battle of wills, there is no middle ground. Somebody is going to have to surrender. 


Soft voices coming from her house made his decision to intrude on her evening easier for him. If she had it in her to entertain guests at this hour, he didn’t feel bad about knocking on her door. When she didn’t answer, however, his earlier irritation grew.

She might be used to the finer things in life, but he was a damn good catch. Okay, so maybe he had grease under his nails and calluses on his hands. He was a hard worker who didn’t shirk his duties. And maybe his clothes came from department-store racks. They looked good on him. He took care of himself.

When he knocked the second time, the door vibrated with the force he used. If she didn’t want him, fine. So be it. But he deserved to hear her say the words. Her flat out ignoring him pissed him off.

When a few more minutes passed, he growled. Who the hell does she think she is, anyway? He didn’t give a shit what she’d sacrificed for the pack. She acted like a stuck-up bitch, and someone should call her on it.

He raised his fist for the third time, but the door swung open. There, on the other side of the threshold, stood his mate wrapped in nothing more than a delectable towel. Her mouth moved as if she were saying something, but he couldn’t get past how beautiful she looked. And smelled. Damn, he wanted to leap into her house and lick her.

“Well? I’m waiting?” She tapped her foot in clear irritation.

Oh, right. She’s been talking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

She rolled her eyes. “What gives you the right to hunt me down in the dead of

The voices he’d heard earlier reached him clearly, and he realized the sounds
came from a stereo somewhere in the house. She hadn’t been ignoring him. She’d been taking a bath. But that didn’t excuse her earlier behavior. “You’re my mate, and you lied to me. You told me you were married.”

“I showed you my wedding ring. I didn’t tell you a damn thing.”

He snorted at the distinction. “You meant for me to think you were married so I’d leave you alone. Why? Didn’t like the universe pairing you with a commoner?” There. He’d told her the truth.

“It wouldn’t have made any difference to me if you were a homeless bum or the prince of a European country. I just want to be left alone.”

Yeah. Like she would’ve turned her cute little nose up at a prince. He didn’t believe her for one second. But he couldn’t come right out and call her a liar. That would kill any shot they had of getting together. He’d waited his entire life to find her. As much as she irritated him, he still hoped they would find a way to make some sort of relationship work. “Fine. But if you wanted me to leave you alone, you should’ve had the decency to tell me to my face. If your ring meant half as much as it should, you wouldn’t be hiding behind it. And you most certainly shouldn’t use the memory of your dead husband to lie to people.”

She glared at him, and her body trembled. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah. That’s what happens when you go around lying to people.” 

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